Not For the Faint of Heart
by aimisonrules
Summary: When Hermione discovers an injured Draco Malfoy in her back garden, it changes the course of her life. Will this change be bad or good? Permanent Hiatus, Sorry!
1. The Discovery

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Not For the Faint of Heart

Chapter 1: The Discovery

Hermione Granger was bored. Not just any type of bored, the kind of bored that one gets three weeks into the summer holidays when one has finished all one's summer assignments, read every book in one's personal library for the twenty-seventh time, cleaned out one's closet as well as under the bed, and finally, all that's left to do is sit in front of the telly and watch mindless programmes. Fortunately for Hermione, just as she was about to slip into a television-induced coma, there was a tapping at her window.

Looking up, she saw a snowy white owl sitting on the windowsill. Running to the window, and throwing up the sash, she cried "Hedwig!" and almost hugged the bird in her excitement. Hedwig just looked at her disdainfully, and held out her leg for Hermione to take the letter that was attached.

"Thank you, Hedwig! I can't wait to see how Harry's doing. If you'll wait, I have his birthday present up in my room." Hedwig seemed to incline her head in the affirmative, so Hermione rushed up the stairs to her bedroom and grabbed Harry's present off her desk. It was an arm holster for Harry's wand. Harry had been practicing duelling with the DA their entire sixth year, and she knew that it was a lot quicker to be able to pull your wand from your sleeve rather than digging through your pockets to get to it. Plus, Harry had told her about Moody's comment on Harry keeping his wand in his back pocket. She thought this was a much easier solution to the problem.

Rushing back down the stairs, Hermione arrived breathlessly at the window and began to tie Harry's present to Hedwig's leg. When she was done, she picked a biscuit up from her plate on the sofa and offered it to the owl. Hedwig nipped her finger affectionately, and taking the biscuit in her beak, flew back toward Surrey.

Watching Hedwig fly away, Hermione saw what a beautiful day it was outside, and decided to read Harry's letter out in the garden. Heading out through the kitchen, she went to "her" bench, on the far side of the gazebo. It was surrounded by climbing roses of all colours, and was Hermione's favourite spot in the garden. Settling in on her bench, she opened the letter and began to read.

_Hermione,_

_How's your summer? Mine's awful. The Dursleys seem to get worse every time I come back from Hogwarts. At least this is the last time I'll have to stay with them. After I'm a fully qualified wizard, I'm never coming back here again. Besides, with everything that's happened, I'm expecting to either be free of Voldemort or dead by this time next year._

_I know what you're going to say, I shouldn't be so morbid. But I told you about the prophecy, "neither can live while the other survives." I just have this feeling that this is the year that it's all going to come to a head._

_Speaking of which, have you gotten your Head Girl badge yet? And don't say anything about how you're not sure if you're even going to get it. We all know that you're the best candidate for the job. I just hope that the Head Boy is someone that you can work well with, and not that slimy git Malfoy. _

_Anyway, I hope that you're summer is going better than mine. I can't wait to see you again. Ron says that his mum is trying to get Dumbledore to let me stay at the Burrow the last two weeks of the holiday, and that he wants you to come too, but you probably already knew that. Write back to me as soon as you can, Uncle Vernon doesn't mind the owl post as much since the Order members threatened him._

_Harry_

Now, Harry had never been very good at writing letters, so over the years Hermione had learned to read between the lines. She could tell that he was miserable cooped up with his relatives, and hoped that his cousin wasn't picking on him as much as in past years. Since the end of their fifth year, when the members of the Order of the Phoenix had threatened the Dursleys at King's Cross, Harry's relatives had tried to ignore him when he was there, but that didn't mean that Harry was any happier about staying with them. Hermione was concerned, however, that he seemed so resigned to the idea that this year was going to be his final confrontation with Voldemort.

Harry, after many starts and stops, and great fear as to what their reaction would be, had told Ron and her about the prophecy as well as everything else that Dumbledore had told him after the battle at the Ministry. He had said that he had to tell someone, it was too big a burden to carry alone. Hermione was glad that he had shared at least some of what he was feeling with them, but she was worried that Harry would get too depressed about the battle that he knew he had to fight sometime in his life, and she hoped that he wasn't anticipating it too much already. After being so volatile during their fifth year, he had been very withdrawn and depressed during their sixth. Hermione thought that it was mostly because of Sirius' death and the burden of guilt and responsibility for the wizarding world that Harry felt.

As for the plan to have her stay at the Burrow, she hadn't heard from Ron all summer, and didn't know about it, but it did sound like a lot of fun. Being an only child, the controlled chaos of so many people living under one roof was a refreshing change. She also liked rooming with Ginny, who she considered to be her best girl friend. They had many a long discussion about life, school, and everything else during those nights she had spent at the Burrow over the years. Hermione was about ready to write Ginny, who would know more about the situation than Ron, and ask her about the plans, when a ball of feathers broke through the screening roses and landed in her lap.

"Pigwidgeon, you silly little owl!" Hermione cried. "Can't you deliver a letter like any normal owl?" Pigwidgeon just hooted his delight at finding her, and dropped a large envelope into her outstretched hand. Looking inside, she saw there were two letters, one each from Ron and Ginny. "Come on, you little fluff ball, let's get you a treat," and picking up the tiny owl she headed inside.

_Hermione,_

_How's your summer been so far? Have you finished all your summer assignments yet? Of course you have, you wouldn't be our Hermione if you hadn't. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to write. Ginny sent a massive letter to Loony, I mean Luna, and it took Pig ages to get back. I think she's in Norway with her dad looking for Snackboxes or whatever._

_I've been spending the summer at the twins' shop in Diagon Alley. They're having me watch the counter while they experiment in the back. At least I'm not their test subject anymore. I actually like helping the customers, and I get a commission for the larger sales. It's really nice having some money I can just spend on whatever I want. For Harry's birthday I was able to get him a Snitch signed by "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn. I hope he likes it, it cost me most of my earnings so far._

_I heard from Harry. He sounds miserable, but Mum finally convinced Dumbledore to let him come stay with us the last two weeks of holiday. That's the main reason I'm writing, to see if you can come too. I know that you don't get to spend much time with your parents, but they won't mind if you come, will they? Write back as soon as you can and let me know, okay?_

_Ron_

_Dear Hermione,_

_I suppose Ron has told you about Mum convincing Professor Dumbledore to let Harry come and stay with us for the two weeks before school. I hope you can come too; being the only girl in this house is getting really tiring. Of course, it's pretty empty these days. Percy is still being a prat to Dad, although he has apologized to Mum. He's still living in London, because he says its easier being close to the Ministry. Also, George and Fred have a flat above their shop in Diagon Alley. I think they work on their projects until they just collapse from exhaustion. I'm glad they have somewhere to sleep that doesn't require them to Apparate when they're that tired. So that means that it's only Ron and I at home. It also means that you can have a room to yourself when you come, and so can Harry._

_I'm sorry that I haven't owled you in so long. I had to send Luna her birthday present, and she's in Sweden with her dad searching for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks (not that they'll find any), so it took Pig a long time to deliver her present. Plus Errol is so lethargic these days that he can hardly hunt for his food, let alone deliver anything, so I didn't have the heart to send you a letter with him. Mum's been talking about getting the family a new owl, but with Ron and I both grown out of the available school robes, we can't get one right now. Can you believe it? Ron's grown three more inches since his birthday and all my school robes are too tight across the bust. That's what comes from having to wear your brothers' old robes. The good news is that I get new robes this year for school, and so does Ron, but I'm afraid it's going to clean Mum and Dad out. Maybe Ron can use some of the money he's been earning at the twins' shop to buy his own robes._

_I got my O.W.L. results this week. They were pretty much what I expected, Exceeds Expectations in Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts, Outstanding in Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology. The score that really surprised me was an Outstanding in Potions. I cannot believe I did that well! It was all that time you spent helping me review. Thank you so much, Hermione. You're the best friend a girl could ask for. I can't wait for you to get here, I have so many other things I want to tell you about, but I know that Ron's going to read my letter before he sends it, so I'd better not say what they are now. Let us know when you'll be coming, all right?_

_Hugs,_

_Ginny_

Hermione always loved getting letters from Ginny. They were always so bubbly and rambling that it made her laugh to read them. She was excited to hear about Ginny's excellent O.W.L. scores, and couldn't wait to see her and discuss the whole matter face to face. She wondered what else Ginny wanted to talk about, but knew that she was right. Ron would have read the letter before sending it off with his own. He always felt that he had to be the protective older brother, and so he snooped into everything that he could get his hands on. He seemed to be worried that another episode like Riddle's Diary was going to occur. Hermione didn't see the logic behind this assumption, but then, when Ron was influenced by emotion he hardly did anything logically.

When her parents got home from their surgery that evening, Hermione had dinner ready and on the table. Her mother was very happy about this.

"Hermione dear, what would we do without you during the summers?" she asked, sitting down in her chair. "The surgery gets so busy when the children aren't in school all day."

"Mum, you know I love you and Dad, and I'd do anything to help you," Hermione replied, smiling.

"Now, Little Frizz, that sounds like a leading statement to me," her dad said, looking at her suspiciously.

"Dad," Hermione said, exasperated, "I wish you would stop calling me that. I'm almost seventeen you know."

"Dear, you won't be seventeen for two more months, and we want to hold on to our little girl for as long as we can," her mother said, dishing out the lasagne Hermione had made for dinner. "Though I do believe your father is right. That was a leading statement. Is there something special you need for school, perhaps new dress robes? It would be nice if they had another ball during your last year at Hogwarts."

"No, Mum, there isn't anything I need for school, at least, not yet. I haven't gotten my letter yet, so I'm not sure what precisely I'll need. It's just that Ron and Ginny have invited me to stay with them the last two weeks of holiday, and I was wondering if I could go." Hermione looked hopefully from one parent to the other, waiting for their response. For a moment, they just looked at each other, seemingly communicating in silent. Finally, as if coming to a decision, her parents both looked at her.

"Hermione," her father said, "You know your mother and I miss you when you're away at school, and we love having you around the house to help us during the summer. However, we think that you're old enough to make this decision on your own. Just as you said, you're almost seventeen."

"We'll leave you to think it over, you let us know when you've decided," her mother concluded. "Now, let's eat this marvellous dinner you've prepared for us."

Lying in bed that night, Hermione agonized over the decision her parents had placed on her. She wanted to go to the Burrow, but she also missed her parents terribly when she was gone. Apart from the Christmas and Easter holidays, the summers were the only time she had spent with her parents since first going to Hogwarts. Over the years, Hermione had come to realize that she was growing apart from her parents. The magical world was so separate from the Muggle world that Hermione never knew what was going on in her parents' world while she was away at school except for the little bits of news her mother would write in her letters.

Just as Hermione was coming to the decision to stay at the Burrow for just one week instead of two, she heard a tapping noise. Climbing out of bed and going to the window, she saw a bedraggled owl sitting on the sill, so she pushed up the window to see what the owl had for her. Clutched in the owl's talon was a wrinkled scrap of paper. Smoothing it out, Hermione tried to decipher what was written on it. After squinting at it for a moment, she decided that it said, "Granger, Help," however, deciphering what the cryptic message meant was an entirely different matter. Hermione looked from the note to the owl, trying to decide where it came from and who could have sent it. Seeing that she was confused, the owl agitatedly tried to get her attention. While she watched, it flew a few feet from the window sill and then back again. After the owl repeated this strange behaviour, Hermione came to a conclusion.

"Do you want me to follow you?" she asked the owl, who seemed to nod in the affirmative at her question. Seeing this, Hermione said, "Very well, let me get changed, won't be a moment." She quickly pulled on some denims and a jumper and slipped into her trainers. The owl was watching her the entire time, but she didn't think anything of it. However, when she looked back at the visitor sitting on her window sill, it seemed to expect her to follow it out the window. "I'm sorry, I can't follow you that way," Hermione said. "For one thing, I don't have my own broom, and for another, I wouldn't know what to do with it if I did. I'll meet you outside the back door." At this, the owl hooted and flew down off the sill.

When Hermione reached the back door, the owl was waiting for her. Immediately it took off, heading through the garden and into a grove of trees that was at the very back of her parents' property. Hermione ran after it, calling for it to slow down. She finally caught up to the owl in the trees. It was sitting on a black bundle of cloth. She walked over to the bundle saying, "Is this what all the fuss was about? It's just a pile of cloth." However, as she got closer to the owl and its perch, she saw that it wasn't just a pile of cloth, it was a person bundled up in a black cloak.

She turned the person onto their back, and the hood of the cloak fell away. She immediately recognised the silvery-blond hair and the pointed face. How could she not, considering who he was? What she couldn't understand was what Draco Malfoy was doing lying unconscious in her back garden. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked straight into hers. "Granger, help," he croaked, then slipped back into unconsciousness.

Fearing that he was badly hurt, Hermione was moved to action. She had been studying Healing in her spare time this summer, so she knew a few diagnostic spells. Hoping she was doing the wand movements correctly, she performed the most basic of these. A sickly green glow emanated from his heart and his abdomen. She knew that was bad, but she needed to check her books before she knew exactly what was wrong. He may have been a conceited, self-absorbed, pureblood git, but she didn't want him to die. Hoping she wouldn't do him too much more damage, she put a Full Body Bind on him so he couldn't move, and then used _Mobilicorpus_ to float him back toward the house.

Hermione floated him into the house and up to her room without much trouble, only hitting his head once against the banister. She winced when this happened and almost tripped on his cloak, which was dragging on the ground. When she led him into her room, she laid him down on her bed, releasing the body bind, and immediately went to her bookshelf to find her Healing books. Grabbing the first one off the shelf, she quickly flipped through the pages to find the diagnostic spell she had performed on Malfoy. Reading through the description of the spell results, she found that the sickly green glow indicated internal bleeding. While she had been studying she had referenced the place where the spell was to help stop internal bleeding, which she was glad of, because now she could go right to it instead of searching through all her books. She put the diagnostic book down on the desk next to her, and picked the correct book of the shelf, going to the bookmark she had placed in the spot where the internal bleeding spell was. Following the instructions explicitly, she performed the spell on Malfoy, then tried the diagnostic spell again. Nothing glowed, which was a good sign.

The healing spell was designed to stop the bleeding and remove the blood that had gotten to where it didn't belong in the body. However, Hermione was now worried that Malfoy had lost a lot of blood through this process. She decided to watch him for a while to see if he woke up, and if he didn't, she would need to make a blood replenishing potion for him. Unfortunately, she didn't have all the ingredients for it in her potions kit. She would need to go to Diagon Alley to pick up a few things at the Apothecary. Looking at her clock on the nightstand, she saw that it was two-thirty in the morning. She couldn't very well go into London now, and the adrenaline from the crisis was wearing off, leaving her exhausted. Thankful that her parents had bought her a queen-size bed as a present for doing so well on her O.W.L.s, she lay down as far away from Malfoy as she could get, and fell asleep, still in her clothes.


	2. The Letter

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Not For the Faint of Heart

Chapter 2: The Letter

Hermione awoke slowly, feeling warm and safe. She looked at her bedside clock, which read 11.23. Her parents would have left for their surgery hours ago. She started to get out of bed, but something was holding her down. That's when she realized there was a pair of arms around her waist. Remembering the events of the night before, she shuddered at having Malfoy so close to her. She may have healed him, but she still didn't like him. However, it was bizarre to think that Draco Malfoy liked to cuddle, if only unconsciously. Hermione slowly and carefully extricated herself from Malfoy's arms, and got out of bed.

She knew she had to check him over thoroughly, to see if he had been injured anywhere else. She picked up her diagnostic book from the desk where she had set it last night, and began to skim through the pages until she found the two spells that she needed; one to make sure he didn't have any broken bones, and one to see if he had a head injury (which she suspected, considering he had come to her for help). She performed both of these spells over him, making sure to get the wand movement right. The results showed that while he didn't have a concussion, he did have hairline fractures in each of his shin bones. It must have been agonizing for him to walk or run anywhere. Hermione hadn't seen a broom or anything else in the grove where she found Malfoy, and wondered how he had got anywhere, let alone to her house.

Pondering this, she looked up the charm to knit the bone back together, and after casting it on him, and making sure it worked by using the diagnostic spell again, she decided to get cleaned up. She set her wand on her desk, chose an outfit from her closet, and headed down the hallway to have a shower.

After a nice, relaxing shower, she towel-dried her hair and pulled it back into a bun so it would be out of her way. She then got dressed and went back to her room to put her dirty clothes in the hamper. Opening the door to her room and walking in, she saw an empty bed.

"Oh no, where-" Suddenly she was on the floor, a very heavy and entirely unconscious Draco Malfoy on top of her. "I knew you had lost too much blood," she muttered to him. "You shouldn't have stood up, you prat." Hermione pushed Malfoy off her and rolled him onto his back. He seemed to be all right, except for the fact that he'd fainted. However, looking closer, she saw tiny scars criss-crossing his neck and arms, and what looked like rope marks around his wrists. This situation was getting more peculiar all the time. Who would have tied him up? How did he escape? Why did he come to her, of all people, for help? Being the inquisitive person that she was, Hermione was determined to find out the answers to these questions. First, however, she had to get him back into bed and make sure he stayed there.

Hermione plucked her wand from the desk where she had left it, and used it to move Malfoy back onto her bed. He was still wearing his heavy cloak, and with some difficulty she took it off him, because she was afraid it might choke him. When she uncovered his back, what she saw made her gasp in horror. His grey silk shirt was ripped in places and soaked in blood. If she hadn't known that no one would dare do such a thing to a Malfoy, she would have sworn that someone had whipped him. Settling him on his stomach and laying his cloak over the back of her desk chair, she searched in her drawer and found a pair of scissors. Being very careful not to touch his back, she cut the shirt open so she could see his wounds better. The cuts had scabbed over during the night, and the shirt was stuck to the scabs. Cursing herself for not checking him over better the night before, she turned to her Healing books and tried to find a spell that would help her clean up the blood and get the shirt off his back without hurting him more.

Hermione looked through all her books, but couldn't find a spell that would help her. Deciding to try a different tactic, she placed a mild sleeping charm on him, so he wouldn't wake up while she was working on him. She then ran downstairs to the kitchen, pulled a basin out of the cupboard, and filled it with warm water. Carefully, she took the water back up to her room, and then went to the linen closet for a clean cloth. Dipping the cloth in the water, she slowly peeled back one side of the ruined shirt, using the wet cloth to dislodge the shirt from the scabs.

After twenty minutes work, she finally pulled the last bit of shirt away from Malfoy's back. Surveying the damage that had been done to him, Hermione was horrified to think that someone could do this to another human being. She Healed the wounds that crossed his back, but couldn't do anything about the slight scarring. If she had more experience she could have removed that as well, but only having studied Healing on her own, she wasn't sure of the procedure. Contrary to popular opinion, she knew you couldn't learn everything from books.

She turned him back over, and pulled the shirt off him entirely. It was completely ruined. She threw it in the bin, and turned back to him. She watched his toned chest rise and fall as he lay there so peacefully, she thought he looked like an angel; a half-naked angel. _Hold on there Hermione, _she thought to herself. _Malfoy is anything but an angel, the pressure must be getting to you. Get a shirt on him before you start thinking more mad thoughts._

She forced herself to turn away from him, and went into her parents' room. Opening the wardrobe, she pulled out the first of her father's shirts that she saw and went back to her room. She quickly put the shirt on Malfoy, hoping that her sleeping charm would keep him unconscious until she was done. Thankfully it did. Laying him back down, she then cast a handy little binding charm on him, so he couldn't move from the bed. She hadn't gone to all that trouble to heal him just to have him hurt himself again.

Just at this moment, her stomach protested her lack of filling it that morning. She felt better leaving Malfoy alone with him somewhat restrained, so she went downstairs to get some food. She fixed herself a sandwich, and while eating it, decided she should probably take her patient some food as well. She wasn't sure what his stomach could handle, having been recently injured, so she just heated some chicken broth for him.

Taking the chicken broth upstairs, Hermione could hear noises coming from her bedroom. Cautiously she opened the door. Inside she found Malfoy struggling to get up from the bed.

"Granger!" he cried, "What have you done to me?"

"Malfoy," she replied calmly, "you're just going to make it worse by struggling. I used a binding charm so you wouldn't get up again."

"What? You can't do that, I'm a Malfoy. Just wait until I get out of here, you're going to regret this." He stopped struggling and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her.

"I can see you're feeling more like your old self again. Now, I went to a lot of trouble to save your measly little life, Malfoy, so don't think you can threaten me. You were bleeding internally when I found you. The healing spell I had to perform stopped the bleeding but removed the escaped blood as well. Also, your back was bleeding most of the night." He raised one eyebrow at this comment, and was about to say something, but she quickly continued. "That means you've lost a lot of blood, which is the reason you fainted earlier."

"Malfoys don't faint," he growled. "They lose consciousness."

"Fainted, lost consciousness, either way it wasn't good for you. You need to stay in bed until you're fully recovered. Now, I should be able to make a blood replenishing potion for you, but I need to get some ingredients from the Apothecary at Diagon Alley. First, however, I want you to drink this broth, you need the liquid."

"You're worse than Pomfrey, Granger. At least she doesn't have to resort to binding charms to keep people in bed." Malfoy sounded very much put out at being kept in bed in such a manner.

"No, she does it by sheer force of will. Unfortunately, I haven't honed that skill as of yet," she retorted. "Very well, Malfoy. If you promise me you'll stay put, I'll take the binding charm off. You need to sit up to drink this anyway." Setting the broth down on the nightstand, she released the binding charm, and moved to help him sit up.

"I can do it myself Granger. I don't want your filthy Mudblood hands touching me," he said disgustedly.

Greatly annoyed by this comment, and not wanting to deal with any more of them, Hermione cast _Silencio_ on him. "Malfoy, if you could refrain from the childish insults for one day, I would greatly appreciate it. I would rather use my energy trying to make you well than fighting with you. Although why, I don't know. Now, let me help you sit up." Glaring at her in protest, he acquiesced – reluctantly. When she had him sitting against the headboard with a pillow for support, she handed him the broth and told him to drink it.

"I'm going to the Apothecary now. Would you like a book to read while I'm gone?" she said mock-sweetly, knowing he couldn't answer. "No? Well, I'll just leave a few here on the nightstand if you get bored. I should be back before my parents come home, but just in case, I'm going to lock the door. It wouldn't do to have them find a boy in my bed, now would it?" He just glared at her menacingly, showing that the Malfoy glare was capable of an amazing range of negative emotions. "I just need to get a few things together to go to London, and then I'll leave you to your thoughts."

She was getting a list together of what she would need for the potion when two owls flew in through the open window. They each dropped a letter on the bed and flew directly out again. Malfoy picked them both up, but before he could look at them, Hermione quickly snatched them away from him. Written in green ink on the first letter was the direction:

_Hermione Granger_

_Northeast Bedroom_

_22 Rosings Lane_

_Hunsford__Kent_

Looking at the second letter, she saw that the direction was the same; however, the name was not hers, it was Malfoy's. _So, _she thought, _Professor Dumbledore already knows he's here. I wonder if he's going to do anything about Malfoy._ Shrugging her shoulders mentally, she held out the second letter and said, "Here, Malfoy, this one's yours." She wanted to ask him so many things about the letter and why he was here, but because she had Silenced him, he wouldn't be able to answer. _Not that he'd answer me if he _could _talk. _

Hermione sat down at her desk and opened her letter. A shiny new badge saying "Head Girl" fell out of the envelope and onto the blotter. Picking it up excitedly, she cried, "I did it! I made Head Girl! I can't believe it!" In her excitement she just had to hug someone, so she grabbed the nearest warm body. The body struggled in her arms, and she realized who she was hugging. She immediately jumped away from Malfoy, blushing in her embarrassment.

"Er, s-sorry, Malfoy," she stammered. "I need to go now, I'll be back soon." She grabbed her bag and her letter off the desk as well as the cloak from the chair and ran out the door, shutting it behind her. Hurriedly, Hermione put a locking spell on the latch so her parents couldn't get in and Malfoy couldn't get out. She then ran downstairs to the fireplace, put on the cloak, and Flooed to The Leaky Cauldron.

At the beginning of the holidays Hermione had got special permission to have her house hooked up to the Floo Network so she could go to Diagon Alley whenever necessary. It had taken a lot of pleading on her part and a lot of string-pulling on Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore's parts. As a security measure, however, the only place she could Floo to was The Leaky Cauldron, and her connection at home would only let her and her parents through. This way, she didn't have to worry about any unsavoury persons (i.e. Death Eaters) trying to get to her through the Floo Network, but she also had the freedom to go shopping in the wizarding commercial sector when she felt the need. She had been a few times already, but had spent most of her time at Flourish and Blotts and hadn't even gone near the Weasley twins' shop, believing them and their pranks too immature for her. The letters from Ron and Ginny she had received the day before were the first she had heard that Ron was working there.

_Was it only just yesterday that I heard from everyone?_ Hermione thought to herself as she walked out the back door of the pub. _So much has happened since then. First Malfoy and then my Head Girl letter, but now I can relax for a little while and try to forget there's a conceited prat in my bed._ She blushed a little at the wording of that thought, tapped the third brick up, second over from the top of the rubbish bins, and went through the archway into Diagon Alley. _Perhaps I should go surprise Ron before I do anything else. He would never forgive me if he knew I had been here and hadn't visited him._

Hermione walked down the street, past Gringotts, to number ninety-three. There in all its splendour was Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. Peeking in at the window, she saw Ron behind the counter, helping some young boys with their purchases. A small bell rang when she opened the door and walked in, causing Ron to look up from his customers.

"Hermione!" he cried. "What are you doing here? Hold on, let me just finish up with these three, and I'll be able to chat." Hermione just smiled and nodded at him to go ahead, then wandered around the shop looking at the shelves. She was very careful not to touch anything, because she didn't know which of these pranks would be triggered just by touch. She wouldn't put anything past George and Fred. Hearing the bell ring again, she looked up and saw that the boys had left the shop.

"All finished, Hermione," Ron said, grinning at her. "Can you believe it? I'm actually earning money right at this moment! Not that those idiots I have for brothers pay me much, but any money is better than nothing."

"Oh, Ron, I'm so happy for you," she said, walking around the counter to give him a big hug. He received it in his usual manner, patting her awkwardly on the back. She stepped back and looked him over. "Ginny's right," she said, "you have grown. If you don't stop soon, you'll be too big for your broom."

Ron gave her a look that said he was not amused by this comment, and retorted, "Well, it looks like you've been shrinking. That cloak is much too big for you. And why is there an 'M' embroidered on it? Where did you get it?"

Hermione looked down at the cloak she was wearing and realized that it was Malfoy's. _Goodness! I must have picked it up accidentally in my rush to get out of there._ She looked back up at Ron, trying to think of an excuse. He was watching her expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question.

"W-well," she stuttered, "you remember my pen friend Michele from Beauxbatons?" Ron nodded. "His family is visiting England during the summer holidays, and he stopped by my house. He said he wanted to meet me in person. It was exciting to hear about his trip and his impressions of the sights they've visited. He must have left his cloak at my house and I put it on mistakenly when I left the house today." Hermione felt guilty lying to her best friend, but she couldn't very well tell him that Draco Malfoy was recuperating in her bedroom.

"Oh, all right," Ron said, accepting her hurried explanation.

"I actually have some rather exciting news to tell you," she said.

"Let me guess, you're Head Girl?"

"Well, yes, but how did you know?" she asked, confused.

"Hermione, it doesn't take a genius to see that you're the best for the position. Besides, I got my letter this morning asking me to be a prefect again, so I figured you would have got your Head Girl badge today as well. I just wasn't expecting you to come tell me in person. How did you get here? Did your parents bring you? Where are they? Did you ask them if you could come and stay with us?"

"Slow down Ron, I'll tell you everything. I got here through the Floo." Seeing his confusion, she continued. "Remember me pestering Professor McGonagall about needing to be able to study more over the summer?" He nodded, rolling his eyes. "She and Professor Dumbledore pulled some strings to get me a special Floo connection just to The Leaky Cauldron so I could come through to Diagon Alley whenever I thought it necessary. That way, I can get to Flourish and Blotts or the Apothecary when I need something for my studies.

"As for my parents, they're probably still at their surgery, inflicting pain on their patients." Ron's eyes widened at this, and Hermione laughed. "Ron, it's just a joke. Anyway, I got yours and Ginny's letters yesterday, and I asked them about going to the Burrow last night. They said I was grown-up enough to make the decision myself."

"So that means you're coming, right?" Ron asked, getting excited.

"Well, I haven't quite decided yet," she replied. Ron started to protest, but Hermione cut him off. "Ron, you know I miss my Mum and Dad when I'm away, and the summers are really the only time I have to spend with them. I just want to have as much time with them as I can. I've been thinking that instead of two weeks, I could just come for the last week before term. That way, I still get time with you and Harry, but I also get more time with Mum and Dad."

"I guess that's all right," Ron said, reluctantly, "but you have to promise to write us both while Harry's staying over."

"Of course!" she agreed. "So, how goes the joke business?"

"Really well, and Fred and George are expecting it to be even busier when it gets closer to term time. They're trying to come up with a new line of pranks for the rush. Do you want to see their experiments?"

"I guess," Hermione said, following Ron to the back room. Then a thought occurred to her. "Ron, if the shop is going to be so busy the last part of the summer holidays, what's Harry going to do while you're here all day?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that," he replied, crestfallen. Then he perked up. "I know! Harry can help me here at the shop. If it's going to be as busy as the twins say, we're going to need the extra help anyway."

"I suppose, but you'd best ask your brothers before Harry gets to your house."

"I'll ask them right now. Oi, Fred!" Ron shouted as he opened the door to the back room.

"What?" came the reply from behind a large shelf.

Walking around the far end of the shelf, Ron said, "When Harry comes to stay, the shop's going to be busy isn't it? So I was thinking that instead of Harry having to stay home while I'm here, he could come help out in the shop. What do you say?"

Following Ron around the shelf, Hermione found the twins' laboratory and production area. There were four cauldrons of various sizes on a table against the far wall, and in the middle of the room stood a large work table. Fred and George were standing on either side of this table, wrapping up packages of their products.

"Sounds like a good idea to me, little brother," said the twin on the left, presumably Fred.

"I agree, Fred. Having the Boy-Who-Lived working at our shop is bound to bring us even more business." George rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Ah, Hermione! Ronniekins, why didn't you tell us Hogwarts' next Head Girl was here?"

"Why does everyone just assume that I'm going to be Head Girl?" Hermione asked, frustrated.

"You mean you're not?" asked Fred, surprised.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, I am Head Girl, but I wish that people wouldn't just assume that I am. They could have easily chosen someone else to be Head Girl this year. With all the trouble that Harry and Ron have dragged me into, they could have decided that I wasn't a good enough role model."

"But they didn't, Hermione," Ron said. "They chose you, which we all knew they would do. Besides, you're a really good role model. You've helped me and Harry all through school. And Ginny wouldn't have done near as well on her Potions O.W.L. without you. You just need to have more confidence in yourself."

"I have plenty of confidence in myself, Ronald Weasley. However, I also have confidence in others as well. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to go to the Apothecary for some supplies." Saying this, Hermione turned around and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.


	3. The Potion

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Not For the Faint of Heart

Chapter 3: The Potion

_The nerve of that Ronald Weasley, saying I have no confidence in myself; I ought to hex him for even thinking such a thing._ Hermione practically stormed into the Apothecary, pulled her list of ingredients out of her pocket, and slammed it down on the counter, startling the clerk. He turned from dusting the shelves behind the counter, and Hermione realized she knew him.

"Edward? I didn't know you were working here." Edward Carter had been a Ravenclaw prefect a year ahead of Hermione. She had become friends with him during the past year, and loved being able to discuss intellectual topics with him that Harry and Ron would never have understood.

"Yes, I started last week," he replied. "Is there something wrong, Hermione? You seem upset," Edward said, concerned.

"It's nothing important. I just had a row with Ron," she replied. "I seem to fight with him about the smallest things lately. Don't worry; I can deal with it on my own." Smiling, she continued, "Now, I want to hear about your N.E.W.T. scores. You must have gotten them, and done well in Herbology and Potions, or you wouldn't have been hired here."

Edward grinned. "You know, sometimes I think you're too clever for your own good, Miss Granger. You're right, I did do well in Herbology and Potions. In fact, better than I expected. I made an Outstanding in Herbology, and an Exceeds Expectations in Potions. I knew I had studied enough to at least pass, but I never thought I'd do that well, especially in Potions. You know how hard Snape's N.E.W.T. level Potions classes are."

"Oh, but they're so stimulating intellectually. Well, except when he's looming over you, waiting for you to make a mistake so he can take off points." They both laughed. "I'm very glad you did so well on your N.E.W.T.s, Edward, but I didn't know that you wanted to work as an Apothecary."

"It was one of the choices I'd thought about, but it wasn't high on my priority list. However, when I came to talk to Mr. Wormwood, the Master Apothecary, about perhaps apprenticing with him, he got me so excited about the different aspects of the field that I couldn't pass up the opportunity. It's amazing how everything connects, and each ingredient has so many different uses and properties if mixed in the right quantity with something else."

Hermione grinned at him, his enthusiasm was contagious. "It's wonderful that you've found something that you love to do. Hopefully I'll find the same when I finish school. Now, I need these ingredients for a potion I'm trying out. Do you think you could help me find them?"

"That's what I'm here for."

Stumbling out of the hearth into her living room, Hermione smiled to herself. She had talked with Edward for over an hour about everything from her Head Girl badge and her healing studies to the benefits of dried versus fresh moonwort. She was glad she had at least one friend with whom she could discuss all her fascinations. When she got really involved in an intellectual concept, Harry and Ron would just roll their eyes at her enthusiasm, but Edward could be counted on to discuss the entire spectrum of the idea. He was so different from her two best friends, and not just intellectually, but physically as well. Ron and Harry were both well-toned from years of Quidditch, but Edward still had that gawky teenage look to him, even at eighteen. She thought it interesting that the colour of his hazel eyes almost matched his sandy brown hair.

Hermione walked up the stairs and into her bedroom still thinking of the contrast between Edward and her two best friends. She saw that Malfoy was lying in her bed, asleep. _Now _there_ is someone who is as different from Harry and Ron as night is from day._ She set her ingredients on her desk, and went to her closet to pull out her cauldron. When she found it, she turned back around. The sight that met her caused her to yelp and almost drop the cauldron on her foot. Malfoy was awake, sitting up, and staring straight at her. He smirked at her reaction.

"If you don't mind, Malfoy," she said, irritated, "I need to get this potion started."

"By all means, Granger, do what you must." He leaned back against the headboard and put his hands behind his head, still smirking at her. "But I warn you, I'm watching every move you make. I don't want you poisoning me."

"Malfoy, why would I poison you? I spent a lot of time and energy healing you. If I'd wanted you dead, I would have just left you where I found you." She started to set up her cauldron and ingredients on the desk, not wanting to look into his piercing grey eyes any longer. "Speaking of which, I've been wondering – how did you get here? I didn't see a broom or anything in the grove where I found you. How did you even know where to find me?" _And why did you come to me for help?_

"How I got here is none of your business, Granger!" he barked at her. Startled at this sudden outburst, she turned around and looked at him. He was leaning toward her, his face flushed, and he was breathing heavily. Then he seemed to get his anger under control. He leaned back again, his breathing slowing. "I just figured that as a good little Gryffindor, you wouldn't be able to pass up an opportunity to help the injured. I'm sure you'll go running to Dumbledore as soon as you can, so you can be rewarded for your good deed." He said 'good deed' as if it were something foul, and sneered at her. Then he closed his eyes, looking somewhat defeated.

"Malfoy," Hermione said quietly, "if you don't want me to tell anyone what happened, I won't. You have my word."

"As if I'd trust the word of a Gryffindor," he murmured. He opened his eyes and looked at her. There was an emotion in them she didn't recognise. But then, Malfoy showing any emotion other than anger or hatred was a surprise to her.

She turned back to her preparations, and following the instructions in the Healing book, started the base for the blood replenishing potion. She carefully sliced, measured, and mixed the necessary ingredients into the cauldron, then set it over a jar containing her special Bluebell flame. "This needs to simmer for thirty-seven minutes exactly," she told Malfoy.

"Do I look like I care, Granger?" he asked.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand the intricacies of such a complicated potion, Malfoy. I was just going to ask if you wanted something to eat while we wait."

In the thirty minutes she allowed herself, Hermione put together dinner for herself and her parents and got it in the oven. She also made Malfoy a coddled egg because she was sure his stomach was still sensitive. She took Malfoy's dinner upstairs, handing it to him when she got back to her room.

"What's this, Granger?" he demanded.

"What does it look like, Malfoy? It's a coddled egg," she replied.

"I can't eat this, it's disgusting!"

"I'm sorry, but that's all you're getting. Your stomach was badly injured only last night, and I'm not giving it anything heavy just yet. You're just going to have to eat what's good for your stomach until it recovers." She was explaining this calmly and rationally, when Malfoy threw his dinner across the room. Exasperated, Hermione picked up her wand, whispered _Evanesco_, and Vanished the ruined meal.

"Malfoy, if you're going to act like a spoiled three-year-old, I'm going to treat you like one." She put on a sickeningly sweet smile, and said in a baby-talk voice, "If you don't want to eat, Drakkie, you don't have to. Now, how does your tum-tum feel?"

Malfoy let out an incensed growl. "My stomach is fine, Granger, and stop talking to me in that tone! Now, get me something better than that slop! I wouldn't feed that to a house elf."

She opened her mouth to respond, but a chime sounded, indicating that the potion had simmered for the required amount of time. "Oh, Drakkie," she said in the same tone, "Your potion needs stirring. I'll help you after I've finished." She moved the cauldron off the flame and put it out. She then stirred the liquid slowly four times counter clockwise and two times clockwise. Adding the last of the ingredients while stirring it again seven times counter clockwise, she left it to steep. "All done! Now it just needs to sit for an hour, and then you can take the first dose. As soon as you've finished all three doses you'll need, I'll let you go home."

When she said 'home,' Malfoy paled. He recovered himself after a moment and said, "What if I don't want to go home? Your bed is surprisingly comfortable for a Mudblood's, and having you wait on me hand and foot has always been a dream of mine. I believe I'll stay where I am, thank you."

She was just about to berate him for calling her a Mudblood again, when she heard her name being called from downstairs. She opened her door and called back. _Oh no, Mum and Dad are home, and I need to go check on dinner._ She spun back to face Malfoy. "You," she said, pointing her finger at him, "stay where you are. If I hear the smallest noise from you, I'm going to make you wish your pointed pure-blooded face never saw the light of day." And with that she stormed out of the room, pulling the door shut and locking it behind her.

All through dinner, Hermione was worried that either her parents would suspect something was wrong, or Malfoy would give himself away. She told them the good news about her Head Girl badge, and chatted incessantly about her ideas for improvement of the school. Her main focus was on the house elves. She still believed that all the house elves at Hogwarts should be given clothes, or at least more freedoms than they had. She had found out during her sixth year that Dobby had been taking all the lovely hats and socks she knitted, and that none of the other house elves had been freed by this plan. This frustrated her because of all the work she had gone to in making the clothes. Hoping they would mistake her nervousness for enthusiasm, she nattered on anxiously to her parents the entire meal, monopolizing the conversation, while they just mumbled something encouraging whenever she took a breath.

Hermione was relieved when dinner was over and was heading back upstairs to check on Malfoy, when her father stopped her.

"Little Frizz, have you thought about what we discussed during dinner last night?" he asked.

"Yeah, Dad," she answered. "I thought I'd stay at the Burrow just the last week of summer instead of two. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a good plan to me. That way you'll still have some time with your friends, but your mother and I will get to see more of you."

"I went to Diagon Alley today to get some things, and I stopped by to see Ron. He's working at his brothers' shop this summer, and he's really excited about earning money of his own. I told him what I'd decided and he seemed a little disappointed that I wouldn't come for the entire time, but he understood that I wanted to have more time with you and Mum."

"That Ron is a nice lad, although his father is a little strange. Anyway, I'm glad you have such good friends, Hermione."

"So am I. I don't know what I would have done without Harry and Ron being there for me through everything that's happened since I started at Hogwarts. Well, _almost_ since I started at Hogwarts." She smiled then said, "I need to go check a potion that I'm working on."

"Have a nice time with your cauldron then," her dad said as she went up the stairs. "And don't blow anything up!"

Hermione shook her head and smiled to herself as she unlocked the door to her room and walked in, pushing it closed behind her. Malfoy was sitting quietly in her bed, reading one of her Healing books. He looked up at her and sneered as she came in.

"Your father doesn't have much confidence in you, does he Granger?"

"It's called friendly teasing, Malfoy," she retorted. "I wouldn't expect you to understand the concept, seeing how you only know the malicious version."

"For your information, Granger," he said crossly, "you don't know anything about me, so I wouldn't be judging too harshly. I can be friendlier than you think."

"Really, Malfoy? All I've ever seen you be is arrogant and conceited. I'd be very surprised if you were anything other than that."

"Well then, I'll just have to prove you wrong," he replied. "I shall certainly cherish the look on your face when you admit you were wrong about me. Imagine, Hermione Granger admitting she was wrong. That will be a glorious day."

"I highly doubt that will ever happen, Malfoy. Besides, you may find that your opinions of me are biased as well."

"So you admit your opinion of me is biased, do you? That's certainly a start."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Whatever you say, my dear," he said, and went back to reading the book in his lap.

"Malfoy, I need that book to finish your potion." Hermione snatched the book from him and turned to the correct page. Checking her watch, she saw that the blood replenishing potion had stood long enough. She looked up at Malfoy, who winked and gave her a lopsided smile. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she turned back to her desk and carefully stirred the potion 2 ¾ times counter clockwise. _You know, he's kind of cute when he's not scowling or sneering,_ she thought. Then a voice in her head sounding a lot like Ron said _Hermione, you did _not_ just think that Draco Malfoy is cute! He's Malfoy for Merlin's sake!_ Shaking her head to get Ron's voice out of it, Hermione poured the finished potion into three waiting vials. She then picked up the first one and handed it to the current source of her aggravation.

"Drink this," she demanded.

Smirking, Malfoy took the vial from her, but before drinking it said, "What's the matter, Granger? Can't take a little _friendly_ teasing?" He then tipped the contents of the vial into his mouth, swallowed, and handed it back to her, grimacing. "Eugh! That was awful! With how well you do at Potions, you couldn't have made it slightly more palatable?"

"I followed the instructions to the letter, Malfoy. I didn't know what it tasted like, that wasn't mentioned in the book. Furthermore, if I _had_ added something to make it taste better, it might have made the potion ineffective. I know it happens with other potions, especially ones related to the blood. However, thank you for your confidence in my abilities."

"If I didn't have confidence in your abilities, Granger," he said, "I wouldn't have come here."

Hermione was surprised by this admission. "Why _did_ you come here, Malfoy?" she asked, sitting down in her chair.

"Well," he replied, "I don't -" He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening. She glanced over her shoulder to where he was looking, and saw her bedroom door opening slowly. She expected her mother or father to walk in and discover Malfoy in her bed, but then heard a loud "mmrrow" as a large ginger cat came in the room.

"Crookshanks!" she cried, and went over him. She picked up her familiar, and shut the door again, making sure it latched this time. "Where have you been?" she asked the cat. "I couldn't find you anywhere day before yesterday."

"Do you expect that miniature tiger to answer you, Granger?" Malfoy drawled. "I thought you were more intelligent than that."

Hermione turned back toward Malfoy and scowled, opening her mouth to tell him off, when Crookshanks jumped out of her arms onto the bed. He padded up to Malfoy and smelled his hand, after which he rubbed against it, wanting to be stroked.

"You traitor," Hermione accused Crookshanks. "How can you like Malfoy when you don't like Ron?"

"Your cat doesn't like the Weasel? It has very good taste." Malfoy scratched the top of Crookshanks' head, then stroked down his back. "But whose idea was it to give this handsome beast that horrid name? What kind of a name is Crookshanks?"

"For your information, Malfoy, Crookshanks is the name he had when I bought him at Diagon Alley. No one wanted him, poor thing." She sat down on the bed to pet Crookshanks herself. "I don't know why. He's always been the sweetest cat. Well, except when it came to Ron. He never liked Ron's rat, Scabbers. We all thought Crookshanks had eaten him at one point during third year, but it turned out he faked his own death. I knew my sweetums would never do something like that."

"Wait a minute, Granger. Did you say the rat faked his own death? How is that possible?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what she had said. She didn't know how to respond to Malfoy's question without giving away what happened with Sirius in third year. She realized that Malfoy _might_ know about Pettigrew because of his father, but the story was so complicated that she couldn't just explain one aspect of it without giving away the entire thing. She tried to think of something to say to distract Malfoy, but couldn't come up with anything. The only plan that came into her head in her agitated state was to distract him in a different way. She leaned over to him, and putting her hand behind his head, kissed him with all the ardour she could collect.

After a moment, Malfoy grabbed her upper arms and pushed her away. He looked at her, bewildered, and whispered, "Granger?"

Shocked by her own actions, Hermione panicked and bolted out of the room.


	4. The Dream

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** WARNING! This chapter contains mild descriptions of torture. I have raised the rating accordingly.

Not For the Faint of Heart

Chapter 4: The Dream

Hermione ran down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door into the garden. She went to her bench and hid herself behind the roses, sitting down and catching her breath. Her thoughts were all jumbled as she desperately tried to make sense of what had just happened.

_What was I thinking? How could I have done something so idiotic? I kissed Malfoy; which stands to reason that I must not have been thinking at all. It was a rather nice kiss, however. His lips were very soft. No! You will not think about his lips! He's Draco Malfoy – Evil Incarnate, Junior. You know as soon as you go back to your bedroom, he's going to hound you about that kiss. And he probably won't leave the Pettigrew thing alone either. _She lay down on her back, putting her arms behind her head, and staring up at the stars through the trellis above her. _What am I going to do? How am I going to fix this? Malfoy still needs to take two doses of the blood replenishing potion or I'd chuck him out right now. But I can't just toss him out on his ear if he isn't fully healed yet. It just wouldn't be right._ She continued pondering the dilemma she had placed herself in, until she finally fell into a troubled sleep.

Hermione was walking down an unfamiliar corridor. It didn't look like Hogwarts, but more like Sirius' house in Grimmauld Place. There was dark wood panelling and elegant silvery green wallpaper on either side of her. At the end of the corridor, there was a set of double doors. As she drew nearer to the doors, she could hear someone whimper. When she was close enough, she looked through the space between the two doors and saw Draco Malfoy curled up on the floor inside.

"So Draco, you think yourself too good for the Dark Lord. You are a disgrace to all you have been taught." Lucius Malfoy walked up to his son and kicked him in the stomach. Draco grunted as the blow hit him, but stayed still.

"I disagree, Father," he said quietly. "You have taught me that a Malfoy does not take orders, he gives them. You have also taught me that as a pure-blooded wizard, I am superior to Mudbloods and half-bloods. I will not submit myself and blindly obey that half-blood maniac as you do." As he said this, Draco slowly got to his feet, swaying slightly.

"You ignorant child!" Lucius spat, smacking Draco across the face. "The Dark Lord is more powerful than you can imagine. In fact," he said, smiling malevolently, "I believe it is time to show you just how powerful I have become in his service. Come." Lucius grabbed Draco's upper arm and pulled him toward the doors where Hermione was standing.

Panicking, Hermione jumped away from the doors just before they flew open in front of father and son. Lucius walked past her as if she wasn't standing there, but as Draco was pulled past, he locked eyes with her. His eyes widened in disbelief, and he seemed to whisper her name.

Drawn by some inexplicable force, Hermione followed the two Malfoys. She was led through dark corridors and down staircases, until finally they came to a cell. Entering the cell, the elder Malfoy threw his son to the ground, then murmured a spell that wrenched Draco up face first against the wall and tied him there by his wrists.

"Now, Draco, you will understand the power that the Dark Lord gives to his faithful followers." Lucius then said something that Hermione could not understand. She knew it wasn't Latin based and tried to decipher it, but before she got far, she was distracted by the effects of the spell. It was as if Draco was being flogged by an invisible person. His grey silk shirt was being shredded as his body jerked with every blow, but he didn't utter a sound. Blood began to seep from the wounds as the lashing continued. Hermione gasped loudly and covered her eyes with her hands.

"You see, Draco? All the fun of a whipping and no one has to get sweaty and dirty. Well, I think that's enough for the moment. Turn around." Hermione peeked through her fingers to see what was happening. Lucius waved his wand and Draco was unbound, spun around, and bound again. Draco looked up and locked eyes with her again, mouthing the words 'Granger, help.' "Let's try something else," Lucius said. "Here's a classic that I know you'll appreciate. _Crucio!"_ The curse hit Draco in the stomach, and he writhed in pain, biting his lower lip to stay silent. He seemed determined not to let his father hear him scream.

Horrified that the man would do this to his own son, and sincerely wishing to help Draco, Hermione went into crisis mode. Ignoring all possibilities that she might be hurt herself, she ran over to Lucius and tried to stop him. She yelled at him, but he couldn't seem to hear her. She stood in front of him to distract him, but he couldn't see her either. She attempted to slap him, but her hand just went right through him. Mystified, she stepped back from the madman in front of her. She didn't understand why it was that Draco could see her, but to Lucius it was if she wasn't there. She turned back to the boy being tortured who was still looking at her with pleading eyes. Thinking hard, she tried to come up with a plan of action. Something seemed very familiar about this situation.

"Ah, the old tried and true methods are so reliable, but there's something that I've been developing that needs a trial run." Lucius raised his wand again, and fired a curse at each of Draco's legs. Crying out, Draco slumped, but was held up by his bound wrists. "Perfect. I'll leave you to contemplate your decision. However, I'd best cover you up first. Your mother would be furious if you caught cold while you were down here." He waved his wand, and a cloak appeared around Draco's shoulders. Hermione was baffled at the incongruity of Lucius' actions toward his son. "I shall return in…oh…whenever I feel like it." Saying this, Lucius left the cell, locking the door behind him.

Hermione rushed over to Draco and tried to help, but she found that her hands passed right through him as well. She didn't know if she was a spirit or something else, but she was getting very frustrated. "How badly are you hurt?" she asked him.

"I'm not sure," he whispered, obviously in great pain. "Granger, what's going on? How are you here?" He seemed desperate to know the answers to these questions.

"I don't know. All I know is I'm here, but I can't help you. I don't seem to have a corporeal form." She was very irritated with this fact. "Can you Apparate?" she asked him. She knew that if she could get him to her house, then she could help.

He nodded slowly. "I have my license, and I think I can get through the wards, but Lucius took my wand. I'd rather not Apparate in this state without it, I'll splinch myself." His face was twisted in pain.

"You have to try. You need medical attention. If you can get to the grove of trees behind my house, I can help you." Hermione tried to convey to him mentally the location he needed to get to so she could find him. She saw him trying to concentrate, and she willed him to have the focus that he needed to Apparate with his injuries. She didn't know if this was a vision or a hallucination, but she was starting to realize that the injuries that had just been inflicted upon Draco were the same as the ones he had when she had found him earlier.

With a loud crack, he was gone. Hermione felt herself being pulled away as well, the dungeon cell fading into darkness.

Hermione opened her eyes and found herself on her bench in the garden behind her home. The sky was beginning to lighten, indicating that dawn was coming. Was it a dream? Had her subconscious invented the whole thing? Or, was it a vision of what had happened to Draco before he disrupted her holiday? If so, what had happened after he had Apparated? Where had the owl come from? She had always discounted Divination, mostly because of that fraud Trelawney, but this vision, or dream, or whatever it was had seemed so real. Wondering about the implications of the entire experience, she went back into the house.

Exhausted beyond reason, but not ready to confront Draco quite yet, Hermione lay down on the couch in the living room. She pulled her wand from her pocket, changed her clothes into pyjamas, and summoned a novel from the bookshelf. Opening it to a random page, she laid it on her chest so her parents would think she had fallen asleep while reading. _When did I become so devious?_ she asked herself. _But I don't want them to think that something's wrong in my room. Dad will investigate, and then he'll find Draco. Wait a minute, when did I start calling him Draco?_ Figuring she was so tired she just couldn't think straight, she closed her eyes and gave in to the oblivion of sleep.

Someone was shaking her, calling her name. Hermione reluctantly opened her eyes and saw her mother standing over her. Groaning softly, she sat up.

"You must have fallen asleep while reading, dear," her mother said. "You looked uncomfortable here on the couch, so I decided to wake you. But why were you down here? You usually read in bed before you fall asleep."

Thinking quickly, Hermione replied, "Well, Crookshanks kept pouncing on my feet, so I shut him in my room to settle down and came down here to read for a little while. Oh, he must still be stuck in my room! I hope he hasn't ruined anything." Jumping up from the couch, she hurried past her mother up the stairs to her room.

Opening her bedroom door cautiously, Hermione peeked in. Draco was sleeping on his side, facing away from her, his hair tousled from sleep. Crookshanks was curled up in the small of his back. It was an adorable arrangement, if one didn't factor in Draco's personality. Hermione wished she had a camera to preserve the moment. Coming into the room completely, and closing the door behind her, she walked over to the bed and picked up the cat.

"Come on, Crooks, it's time for your breakfast," she whispered, not wanting to disturb her patient. However, as soon as the weight and warmth of the cat was gone from his back, he rolled over and looked at Hermione. "Oh, Draco," she said, surprised. "You're awake."

"Yes, Granger, thank you for telling me," he drawled. "I would never have figured it out for myself." He paused, realizing what else she had said. "Wait, what did you call me?"

Confused by his question, she thought about the statement she had just made and realized she had called him Draco. Startled, she put her hands over her mouth, causing her to drop Crookshanks, who growled and darted under the bed. "I, er, called you Draco," she said through her hands.

"Might I ask why a filthy little Mudblood like you would dare to call me by my given name?" he sneered, sitting up.

Hermione sat at the foot of the bed, resisting the urge to slap him for his insult, and thought about the question instead. _Why did I call him Draco? What happened to calling him Malfoy? _She slowly realized that she had been thinking of him as Draco ever since her dream the night before. In her mind, 'Malfoy' now referred to his evil bastard of a father. She looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap and said quietly, "I had a very strange dream last night about you and your father."

"Y-you did?" she heard him stutter. Glancing up, she saw fear in his eyes for a moment before they returned to the normal façade of indifference.

"Tell me, was it real?" she asked him, practically begging. "Did all that really happen, or did my subconscious come up with the entire scenario to explain your injuries? Though," she continued, babbling to herself, "I don't think I want to know if my subconscious is that twisted. A father wouldn't really do that to his own son, would he? I mean, it's just so horrifying to think that someone could do that to another human being. No one is that heartless, are they? I just-"

"Granger!" he interrupted. "Stop your inane prattle!" She blushed, embarrassed, and looked back down at her hands. He continued. "Pray tell, what exactly did you see in this infamous dream of yours?"

Staring at her lap the entire time, she slowly recounted what she had seen and experienced. By the time she got to the point where his father had broken both of Draco's legs, quiet tears were running down her cheeks. When she finished her narration, she sat quietly, waiting for him to refute the entire story.

"Well, Granger," he sighed, "I think it's safe to say that your subconscious mind is not as deranged as one might wish. There might be hope, however; perhaps hallucinations are becoming contagious."

"You mean-" she began, furtively wiping the tears from her eyes before glancing up at him.

"Yes, that is exactly what happened to me." He had a very neutral expression on his face as he said this.

"Including my part in it?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"What do you mean?" she asked angrily. "I saved your life, you ungrateful wretch!"

"You are wrong about that, my dear Miss Granger," he said silkily, "I am truly grateful for your help, even if I now have a life debt to a Muggle-born."

"A life debt?" she asked, calming slightly. "What is that?" She was wary of his motives in being somewhat nice to her. She may have kissed him, but she still didn't trust him. An idle thought that Draco's voice sounded like Professor Snape on a good day came to her mind, but anxious to hear Draco's explanation, she filed it away for future contemplation.

"Surely you've read about the concept of wizarding life debts, Granger." She shook her head. "No? Well basically, since you saved my life, I owe you a life in return, preferably your own. There will be a magical bond between us until that life is repaid. And Malfoys always repay their debts."

"Well," she said, still trying to figure out his agenda, "It's time for you to take another dose of blood replenishing potion." She stood up from the bed and went over to her desk to get a vial of the potion. She handed the potion to Draco, who took it, allowing his fingers to graze along her palm in the process. Startled by the sensuousness of the contact, she snatched her had back.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Whatever do you mean, Granger?" he drawled in reply, a curious look in his eyes.

"Just now, that…Oh, forget it." Raising his eyebrow at her agitation, he drank the potion, handing the vial back to her. She took it, careful not to touch him again. "My parents should have left for their surgery by now, so if you would like, you can come downstairs and have some breakfast. You should be strong enough." From her calculations, Draco hadn't had anything to eat for at least thirty-six hours, so he must be very hungry. As if on cue, there was a growl from his stomach. His eyes widened, and a slight embarrassed flush came to his cheeks.

"Actually, Granger, contrary to my stomach's belief, the most pressing need I have at the moment is to use the toilet. Where is it?" He got out of the bed slowly as he said this, and stood in front of her, shaking.

"Oh, goodness, you haven't been since you arrived, have you?" Hermione was mortified that she hadn't thought of this before. "It's across the hall, next to the stairs. Do you need any help?"

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of it myself, Granger, but thank you for the thought." Saying this, he went to the door, opened it, and headed to the loo.

Hermione sank down onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. _I can't believe I just asked him if he needed help going to the toilet. What's even more unbelievable is that he thanked me for thinking of him. Perhaps he has a head injury after all. I'm not that good at the diagnostic spells yet._ Just then, Draco sauntered back into the room, shirtless.

"If it isn't too much trouble, Granger, could I perhaps have a change of clothes? My trousers are stiff with blood, and this shirt is hideous. I couldn't stand to wear it any longer. Where on earth did you find it, the rubbish heap?"

"For your information, _Malfoy_, that is one of my father's favourite shirts." _Although I've never figured out why_. She grabbed the blue paisley shirt from him, and laid it over her desk chair.

"Well, then your father must have horrendous taste in clothing," he sneered. Then his eyes turned pleading. "I would really like some breakfast, but I would also like to clean this blood off me."

"You can have a shower then," she said, going back into 'Madam Pomfrey' mode. "I'll get you a change of clothes and a towel and leave them outside the bathroom door. I'll probably have breakfast ready by the time you're done." She was confused by his sudden mood changes. One moment he was his usual sneering self, and the next he seemed like a lost little boy. She didn't know what to think.

Draco nodded in confirmation of her instructions, and went back into the bathroom. Hermione then went to the linen closet and pulled out a clean towel and a flannel. She then went into her parent's bedroom. In the bottom drawer of the wardrobe, she found her father's old jogging suit. He had given up the sport some years ago, and was now just letting himself go. She figured Draco wouldn't want to wear something quite so Muggle, so she laid the clothes on the bed and transfigured them into a more sophisticated outfit; a pair of charcoal trousers and a white button-down oxford shirt. She took a pair of her father's boxers out of the top drawer, hoping they would fit, and then folding all the clothes together with the towels, set them on the floor outside the bathroom door.

Five minutes later, Hermione was downstairs fixing breakfast for herself and Draco, when she heard a knock at the front door. Turning down the heat on the eggs, she walked to the front hall and opened the door. Startled by who was there, and dismayed at what he would do if he found out who was in the shower upstairs, she almost slammed the door in his face. Standing on the front step was the last person she wanted there that particular morning.

Ronald Weasley.


End file.
